


The ties of the past

by lastwagontrainhopper



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Ball, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Post-Canon, Royai - Freeform, Trauma, and where Roy is an A+ boyfriend, starts out nice and fluffy and of course the angst will come, where Riza is a tiny bit insecure but doesn't want to admit it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25771246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastwagontrainhopper/pseuds/lastwagontrainhopper
Summary: After two years out of the military, Roy and Riza are still getting used to their life as civilians. The yearly Republic ball looked like a great occasion for them to come back to Central, catch up with some old friends, and have a good time - if only their past didn't have the nasty habit of coming back to haunt them.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	The ties of the past

**Author's Note:**

> The military ball seems like a classic of Royai fics, so here's my take on it - with a twist since it's retired!Royai.

Every Sunday morning, Roy Mustang would come out of his house, with his hair in a mess and slippers on his feet, to fetch the mail from the mailbox.

Looking at him then, squinting in the morning sun and yawning at the envelopes, it seemed hard to believe that this was really the Flame Alchemist, the Hero of Ishval and until recently Führer of Amestris. A man who has defeated homunculus, repelled an invasion, stopped a coup d'état, and whose main problem right now was to manage to keep all his letters in one hand without dropping any, the other one busy holding a steaming cup of coffee.

"Hey, the newspaper is here! “

As he entered the kitchen, he dropped the mail on the table and took the newspaper from under his arm to hand it to Riza. Sitting at the other end of the table while sipping her own cup, she looked up from her novel.

"At least they're on time, this week. “

As she took out a pencil and opened the newspaper to the crossword puzzle page, Roy sat down in front of her and began to go through their letters. The kitchen fell into a comfortable silence.

It had been almost two years since they had left the army, got married and moved to this house on the outskirts of Central. Two years, and they kept going through this Sunday morning routine, choreographed and performed with clockwork precision. It was an endearing little routine, that seemed almost ridiculous because of how _normal_ it was; as if someone had looked up the textbook definition of an ordinary life and had applied it to the letter.

But after all they had been through, Roy and Riza were looking for nothing more than a bit of normalcy.

For so long they had kept this made-up idea of normal life - with the house, the white picket fence and the dog - as the Holy Grail they hoped to reach that now they were trying to reproduce this vision as best they could. They pretended to be a mundane married couple, who spend their retired days taking care of their garden and walking Bolo, their black lab. They quite liked this little sham: both of them had spent a large part of their lives putting on an act – like playing the parts of the superior and the subordinate, for example - but this one was by far the most enjoyable.

Of course, there were some cracks in the facade, some clues that Roy and Riza had not spend their whole life living quietly in the suburb: their scars that ached on rainy days; their restless nights; their house that was quieter than they would have liked. But that didn't stop them from pretending and savoring all those moments of routine that another family would have taken for granted.

There were few surprises in today's mail; Roy described each letter aloud as he put it on the table.

"Advertising pamphlet, gas bill...huh, a card from Winry for one of her kids' birthday, that's cute...an invitation to...a school opening, another advertisement, and an invitation to the Republic Day ball. “

Riza stretched out his arm and grabbed Winry's card without paying attention to the rest.

"Ah, it's Thomas who just turned five... You should give them a call, Roy. You are his godfather, after all “

"Yes, I'm sure a conversation with a five-year-old would be particularly interesting." Roy looked at the last card with a pensive look on his face. After a long silence, he raised his head towards Riza. "You know what? I think we should go. “

She pulled her attention away from the crossword again. "Go where?"

He handed her the card: it was the invitation to the ball. She frowned, surprised. As a former Führer, Roy was of course invited to every official celebration, but he had declined every offer to this day.

"Republic Day? You want to see Breitner so badly? “

Roy chuckled. "No, not if I can help it. But it would be a good chance to catch up with old acquaintances, don't you think? “

Riza tilted her head. "Yes...but there are other ways to do that. You know not everyone in Central is a big fan of yours, especially at this kind of event. “

"Yes, but that’s the point: this is for Republic Day. Havoc told me about it at Christmas: last year, no one from the old guard showed up. If we’re lucky, there’ll only be pleasant people around. “

Riza began to read the details of the cart, nodding slowly; she wasn’t surprised that the generals did not care to celebrate Republic Day. It was a commemoration of the first elections, and Roy had tried to make it the national holiday of Amestris to replace that of June 23, where the country’s latest conquest – including Ishval - were celebrated with large military parades. Several officers and part of the population had violently opposed this change, and Roy finally had to back off.

Riza put down the cart and looked at Roy with a half-smile.

"I have the feeling you mainly want to go to a ball. “

Roy raised his arms, palm toward the sky. "Riza, you've got me figured out. I confess, I do think it would be nice to go to a party. You know, this kind of event is supposed to be fun. “

She raised an eyebrow. "In my experience, not really. “

"I know, and that's _exactly_ why we should go. I promise you that as a civilian, without any responsibilities, a ball can be a good time. You have to try it at least once! “

Riza stared at the card, indecisive. The party was scheduled for two weeks from now.

"Moreover," Roy added, "we would be there as ordinary citizens, but also as a married couple. Which will undoubtedly be more pleasant than our situation at the previous balls." He smirked. "By the way, I'm sure some of the secretaries from Central Headquarters will be there. “

Riza frowned as she remembered some of the employees she had worked with in Central. When she and Roy and had been transferred back to the capital, following Ishval reconstruction, some secretaries had discovered some hints about their relationship and had assumed the obvious: that, as it was often the case with the senior staff, Riza was sleeping with her superior to get promotions and Roy was simply using her as a mistress. These rumors had affected Roy much more than her; he had been fuming when he had heard them, but there was nothing he could do at the time to prove them wrong.

Riza put the invitation down on the table and looked him in the eyes. "I don't have anything to say to these women, Roy. I didn’t marry you to prove a point. “

Roy put his hands in front of him as a sign of conciliation. "I know, Riza, I know. But you have to admit it would feel good to see their reaction, wouldn’t it? Come on, even you must be a little petty sometimes. “

Riza ignored Roy's remark and took a long sip of coffee.

She stared at the wall, pensive. It was in these kinds of moments that the difference in their upbringing became obvious. Riza came from a small country town and would have been happy to never set foot in the capital again if it weren’t for their friends who lived there. But Roy had grown up amid stone buildings and cobblestone streets, and he had been raised by his aunt in the glamorous world of bars, dances and three-piece suits. That was his element.

Riza sighed." Okay. I guess we can't keep the city boy away from Central for too long. “

Roy frowned. "Riza, you know that’s not what this is about. I assure you, there’s plenty of things I don’t miss from Central.” He joined his hands, putting both of his elbows on the table. "Look, if you don't want to go, it's okay. I just genuinely think it’s a shame you have never been to an event like this just to enjoy it. Hell, even I haven’t done that since I was a teenager!”

Riza shot him a skeptical look.

"It’s true! What, did you think I went to dances or fancy parties during the weekends?”

"I would never dare to speculate on the personal life of my superior, that would be unprofessional." Roy chortled. "And the military balls weren’t exactly fun and games.”

Roy settled back in his chair, both hands wrapped around his mug. "No, not quite. I mean, when I was back from Ishval, all those luxurious events only made me sick – you know how it is. But even later on, when I was colonel, my only goal at these balls was to suck up to the top brass for promotions. “

"But that wasn’t the case anymore when you became a general,” Riza pointed out. “Then, you were the one people were bowing down to.”

"Yes, but it was hardly more pleasant." He gave her a sideways glance. "Besides, I could tell that a certain someone didn’t particularly appreciate those balls, and that didn’t make me want to celebrate so much.”

Riza developed a sudden interest for the bottom of her mug.

When she was a lieutenant, Riza didn’t mind the military dances: they were just missions among others, which at least came with music and delicious food. But after the Promised Day - after she and Roy had started to be more than colleagues - things had changed. A general, and then a Führer, who was single and relatively young was something that was unheard of, and unsurprisingly, the young ladies from old families and the rich widows of Central did were quick to try their luck. Riza was not a jealous woman; the very concept of jealousy was anyway irrelevant in the kind of relationship she and Roy had. But having to spend entire evenings watching these women flutter around him and openly trying to seduce him, and Roy playing along with the minimum enthusiasm to not seem rude, had still left a bad taste in her mouth - even though she would never have dared to admit it.

For the first time in her life, she had begun to feel self-conscious at these balls, almost intimidated by these beautiful and elegant women. Riza liked to dress up as much as the next person, but her tastes were simple and unpretentious. It had never bothered her before; but suddenly, she began to acutely feel the gap between her and these women, for who walking in heels seemed natural, who knew how to choose the perfect dress to match their bodies, and whose make-up was striking yet tasteful. Elegance was a skill that came with practice, and these women were as good at it as Riza was with her sniper rifle. It was their battlefield.

In addition to being beautiful, some of those women were obviously intelligent, strong-willed, interesting. Soon, a little voice in Riza's head had begun to wonder if it was a matter of time before one of them actually caught Roy's interest; if, at times, he couldn't help but compare them to his ordinary, plain captain. Sure, she and Roy had shared hardships that none of these women could understand, had gone through hell together. This kind of thing could foster strong companionship; but a shared trauma was hardly a good basis for a relationship. What if Roy decided he wanted to be with someone more like him – or simply with someone that wasn’t a living reminder of his worst sins?

Riza had done her best to ignore that little voice. There was nothing she or Roy could do to change their situation, and anyway, she wasn’t a jealous woman; so she had never told him how those balls made her feel. Obviously, this hadn't stopped Roy from noticing.

But he was right, she thought to herself as she put down her cup of coffee. This time, the situation would be different. And it seemed to be something that was important to Roy.

“Okay," Riza said suddenly, snapping out of her train of thought. "Let's go and see what happens. “

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, then looked at him sternly. "But if it turns out to be boring or unpleasant, it’s on you. “

He shrugged his shoulders with his usual smirk. "I've done worse, as far as gamble goes. “

\--

The next two weeks went on as usual, except for a few changes to their routine. On their visit to the Saturday morning market - another act in their “ordinary married couple” play - they stopped in a jewelry store where Roy bought new cufflinks and Riza came upon a lovely pair of silver earrings. They dusted off their formal attire, which hadn’t been used much since they left Central, and Roy was relieved to see that his suits fit him just as well as before.

Riza chose her favorite outfit, a dark blue dress (a shade quite similar to the military uniform, Roy had once pointed out jokingly) that hid her back and neck while being elegant and comfortable. In addition, the skirt fell just below the knees, which made it quite easy to conceal a firearm.

Roy arched his eyebrows when he saw her pull one of her handguns from the bedside table, as they were preparing for the ball.

"Do you really think that's necessary?" he asked as he threw his tie over his neck.

"It's part of my style, you should know that by now," Riza replied, deadpanned, while adjusting the holster on her right leg. "You should take a pair of gloves. Just in case. “

Roy's gaze fell on the cupboard where he kept them neatly stored, hesitant. In two years, he had finally lost the habit of carrying gloves with him at all times. "I can take them if it makes you feel better. But you know, no one is aware that we’re coming. Besides, I don't see who would gain anything by targeting me right now. “

She gave him a skeptical look. "Two years ago, you were the most important figure in the country. And you pissed off a lot of people when you were in power, if I recall.”

He shrugged his shoulders and began to adjust his tie again. "That's true; but killing me now would be useless. Plus, in a democracy, assassinations are not a very strategic choice: it's bad for the image, and it has a nasty habit of creating martyrs. “

"And this is exactly what must be avoided at all costs. Your ego is big enough as it is. “

Roy chuckled, but still slipped a pair of gloves in the front pocket of his jacket.

When they were ready, they left Balo to their neighbors, a charming couple with two little girls who loved playing with the big dog, and they left, Roy at the wheel of their old car.

After a little less than an hour's drive, they reached the address on the invitation card. To Riza's relief, the Republic Ball was not held in the Führer's old mansion like the military balls were, but rather in the hall of the Central Opera House. The party was already well underway when they arrived: the sounds of classical music, tinkling dishes and the rustle of conversation reached them as they walked towards the building.

When they were about to climb the main staircase, Riza couldn't help but take a look around. There were two guards at the entrance - that's good - but none on the balcony and no one seemed to be watching the surrounding gardens. Roy caught her glance and put a hand on her arm.

"Remember, Captain Hawkeye; you have one and only one mission tonight, and that's to enjoy your evening. Everything else is already under control. “

"Sorry, sir, but I'm not on active duty anymore,” she replied, still scanning the area. “I no longer answer to the chain of command. “

He rolled his eyes. "Of course, now, of all time, is when you decide to be insubordinate.”

"You do remember that time I helped plan a coup, right?" Riza said, looking back at him.

"How could I forget it?" Turning towards the entrance, he offered her his elbow with a pompous look. "Milady, if you would. “

After a second of hesitation, she clung to his arm. She would still need some time to get used to that.

They climbed the stair and showed their invitation card to the soldier guarding the door, whose eyes widened when he recognized their names but who gestured them to enter without a word.

At this time of the day, Central was submerged in the semi-darkness of twilight; leaving the streets to enter the opera hall felt as if they had suddenly step under the midday sun. Everywhere in sight, there were crystal chandeliers, lamps, and mirrors that covered the place in golden lighting. The room was packed: more than a hundred guests, according to Riza's estimate, could be seen standing around chatting in small groups, or examining the buffet, listening to the chamber orchestra, or sitting around small tables. The dance area and the balcony seemed empty, which was expected for this time of the evening.

They walked away from the entrance, searching the room for familiar faces. For a moment, no one noticed their presence; Riza then began to see, out of the corner of her eyes, heads turning in their direction and surprised looks. Roy continued to lead her through the crowd with his usual nonchalance, until they heard a friendly-looking young man call out to them. Riza recognized him as Lieutenant-Colonel West and, out of habits, she leaned to the side to whisper his name in Roy's ear. Neither of them knew West well, but he seemed full of admiration for the Führer, and they talked with him for a few minutes before excusing themselves.

"You know," Roy told her as they walked away from the Lieutenant-Colonel, "you don't have to do that kind of thing anymore. I'm not trying to convince anyone to vote for me or back up my plans. “

"And that allows you to ignore the basic courtesy of remembering their names? “

Roy grabbed two canapés from the tray of a waiter passing by and handed one to Riza. "Not at all. But since there’s nothing at stake in the conversations we’ll have tonight, I thought you might want to let me mess up on my own and enjoy the show, for a change.”

"That does sound entertaining," she said, taking a bite out of the delicacy. "Unfortunately, old habits die hard. “

He chuckled. "You don't say.”

"Führer Mustang. "A curt, authoritative voice caught their attention, and they turned around to see a bald man with a flawless grey mustache heading towards them. A stern-looking woman, thin as a stick, was hanging from his arm. "And Mrs. Mustang. What a pleasant surprise. “

"President Breitner!" Roy replied with a broad smile. " I concur – I’m surprised you haven’t run the country into the ground yet. “

Mrs. Breitner gasped slightly, and her grip on her husband's arm tightened, but he remained unfazed.

"As you can tell, the country is doing just fine." He gazed at Roy, pursing his lips. "You didn't tell us you were coming, Führer. “

"Oh, don't worry, I won't be bothering you for much longer. I only came here to chat with some former colleagues that I esteem." He tilted his head and looked over Breitner's shoulder. "Speaking of which, I think I see one over there. If you'll excuse me... "

He offered his arm to Riza, preparing to leave, and almost as an afterthought, turned to Mrs. Breitner with his most charming smile. "You are, madam, as scandalously beautiful as ever." He bowed deeply in her direction, and Riza had to suppress a laugh when Mrs. Breitner's shocked expression becoming more uptight, if that was possible.

As soon as they were out of earshot, she glanced at Roy. "Seriously? “

Roy, who was now leading her to a table full of light refreshment, put on an innocent face. "What?" he said.

"So we've come here to see some acquaintances, _and_ to set the score with your old rivals. “

They stopped in front of the large table, covered with glasses filled with liquids of different colors.

"Hey, he's the one who came to see us, isn't he? All I did was being honest - as any ordinary citizen has a right to be. Anyway, he knows very well how I feel about him. “

This much was true; everyone knew there was no lost love between Roy and the new president. In the last election, Roy had refrained from taking sides so as not to abuse his position, but it was clear that his favorite was Brown, his former prime minister, a Liberal and university professor. However, after a close fight, it was Breitner who won the vote, a former general known for his incorruptibility and the severity of his policies. Roy had been furious at the result; but as Breda wisely remarked at the time, "the problem with democracy is that people don't always make the choice you want. “

"You know," Roy continued, picking a glass of sparkling water, "when I was Führer, I would have liked it if someone was this straightforward with me. It would have been a pleasant change from all those generals who played nice with me while plotting behind my back. “

Riza examined the various drinks and settled for a flute of champagne. "Still. It wasn’t even clever. “

Roy smiled fondly. "I thought you would have noticed, dear wife of mine, that I stopped being clever the moment I left the military." With that, he planted a quick kiss on her cheek and started guiding her through the crowd again before she had time to react.

Soon, others began to greet them, high-ranking military officers and members of the governments, all of whom Roy and Riza knew more or less personally. Roy had been right about one thing: most of the politicians and officers present were among those who had supported him when he was Führer - or at least, had not opposed him - and Riza was genuinely happy to talk with many of them.

It still felt strange to her to be standing next to Roy while they talked, rather than watching him a few steps back or from a corner of the room. She was certainly not alone in noticing this change: although few of them addressed the subject directly, she could feel surprised looks directed at the two of them - and at the hand Roy kept on her.

He and Riza usually stayed away from public display of affection; once again, old habits died hard. But as they were chatting with the various guests, she noticed that Roy always kept his left hand lightly resting on her arm, lower back, or hip, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It didn’t feel restraining, and it wasn't improper, but it was something Roy would never have dared to do when Riza was still his subordinate. The gesture acted as a message, like a slightly more obvious wedding ring, to clear out some of the confusion they could read in the eyes of many of the people they were talking to.

Riza discovered that she quite liked this subtle embrace, and started to lean into his touch, at times placing her own arm around his waist. And although she would never admit it to Roy, she couldn't help but feel a certain sense of satisfaction when she saw the surprised - and sometimes shocked - expressions this provoked in many of the guests, including many women. They had surely all read about their wedding in the newspapers, but this was the first time that Roy and Riza appeared in public as a couple.

Riza was well aware of the kind of reactions their marriage must have provoked. In terms of ranks, of social status or of wealth, she had married way above her station. Of course, this had never bothered them, but here, in the highest sphere of society, this kind of thing did not unnoticed. Riza knew she shouldn’t try to stay at Roy’s side all evening: she didn't want to give the impression that she was clinging on to him desperately or that she was showing off her marriage. But it almost seems as if the opposite was happening: Roy remained with her throughout the various conversations and seemed to glow the few times the speaker brought up the subject of their marriage.

Soon, it was time for the first dance, and, as tradition would have it, the President and his wife led the way. After a while, a few brave guests ventured into the middle of the gallery, until it was filled with swirling couples, forcing the rest of the crowd - including Riza and Roy - to retreat to the buffet or to the tables. After a few songs, unsurprisingly, a middle-aged woman with whom they had briefly chatted walked towards them.

"I think everyone here is curious to see if our Führer still remembers how to dance, after all this time," she said warmly. She turned toward Riza with a mischievous smile. "Do you mind if I borrow him for a few minutes, Mrs. Mustang? “

Riza was about to agree, but Roy was faster.

"Miss, I'm very flattered by the invitation, but I'm afraid my dancing skills would disappoint the whole audience. You know what retirement does to a man," he replied with a knowing smile. "For the sake of my old bones, I only dance with my friends and my wife, I'm afraid. But I'm sure you won't have any trouble finding a partner among any of the men here, judging by your looks," he added with his typical charming voice.

The woman seemed surprised, but quickly recovered and accepted his answer gracefully before walking away.

Riza took a sip of champagne and glanced at Roy, who seemed focused the orchestra, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his glass. "That was very chivalrous of you, Roy. But if you want to dance tonight, you should probably accept the next invitation. You know it’s not really my thing. “

"Yes, I know. But again, I was just being honest. I don't really feel like dancing with dozens of people today," he answered calmly.

"Really? I thought you loved ballroom dancing. “

He shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, the dance itself is fun. But it often comes with the need to make small talk. And, although I'm devastatingly skilled at the art of sweet-talking with wealthy women, it's more of a duty than a pleasure, believe me. Hence my rule of only dancing with people I know. “

Riza raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She doubted that this was the entire truth. Roy had a natural talent for all of this - charming the ladies, joking with the gentlemen, navigating the complex rules of high society. And it was hard not to end up enjoying the things you excelled at, no matter their consequences - Riza had learned it the hard way with her sniper rifle.

She put her hand on his arm, trying to meet his gaze. "You can dance with whoever you want, Roy. I don't mind. “

"I know," he simply repeated. Something caught his attention from the other side of the room. "Ah, I think I just saw someone that you’ll find quite interesting! Come on. “

He led her toward the entrance where a group of guests who had just arrived was taking off their coats. As they approached, slaloming between the chatting groups and the whirling couples, Riza began to recognize some familiar voices.

"Well, well, well! If it isn't Amestris' finest couple, finally out of their shelter! “

Riza couldn’t help but smile when she caught sight of Havoc, calling them out loudly with a wave of the hand. He hadn't changed much since they had seen him at Christmas, with his beard and blond hair where a few touches of grey had started to creep in. Against his usual habits, he didn't have a cigarette between his lips, chewing what seemed to be a wooden stick instead.

"Havoc!" Roy replied in the same tone as they walked toward him. "So, you finally decided to quit smoking?"

"Oh, that? No, no, that's..."

"Yes, we're working on it," interrupted firmly Josephine, her current partner, appearing beside him. "But this is mostly for tonight. It wouldn’t be very classy to come here with a cigarette. “

"And we all know," snorted Roy, "that Jean is the epitome of class. “

Breda suddenly appeared next to Havoc, accompanied by his wife, Mary, a short redheaded woman with a friendly face. They all greeted each other warmly.

"Fuery should be here soon," Breda informed them. "I guess he's doing overtime again - they all seem to be working crazy hours on Central radio. “

"It would be nice to see him again," Riza said with a genuine smile, one of the first of the evening. She threw a sideways glance at Roy. "I didn't expect the whole squad to show up at an event like this. “

He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly trying to avoid her gaze. "…well, it's possible they _somehow_ learned that we were coming. “

Riza snapped her head toward him, frowning. "Roy! I thought nobody knew about this! “

"Don't worry, I've only told it to trustworthy people! You saw that Breitner had no idea." She nodded, reluctantly. Roy's expression softened. "Come on. It would have been a shame to come to Central without seeing them. “

Riza sighed; she couldn’t argue with that. Fuery arrived a few dozen minutes later, and they were joined by Rebecca, Maria Ross, and others of their former colleagues. Only Falman hadn’t been able to make it – a trip from Briggs couldn’t really be planned on a whim. Around them, Riza quickly felt more at ease. There was nothing to prove or explain - Roy and Riza's close friends had all known the nature of their relationship for a long time - and the two began to act more naturally, at times splitting up to talk to different people.

"I told you it was a good idea to come," Roy said to her ear, reappearing at her side as she was speaking with Rebecca. "They have a whole table full of clams. “

Riza turned his head towards the table in question and, despite herself, felt her jaw drop, prompting a satisfied grin from Roy. Few people knew about her undying love for clams, a dish she had discovered at this kind of event; but of course, Roy was one of them.

She made her way to the table and served herself copiously. Food had been one of the main silver linings of all those military balls, one of the things that her duty did not prevent her from enjoying. Riza had spent her childhood in the countryside and most of her adult life on a military pension, so she had rarely had the chance of eating fine food. She had always made a point of savoring these dishes, unlike the aristocrats of Central, for whom food was only a means of starting a conversation or judging the quality of the reception.

As the evening went on, Riza had to admit that Roy was right: it was indeed much more pleasant than the balls she had attended before. It had been a long time since they had all been together in an unprofessional setting - it reminded her of the nights when the whole squad would go out to bars, when Roy was Colonel - and the food, music and venue were nice additions. Riza even let herself be tempted by a few more glasses of champagne, unusually for her. She and Roy almost never drank alcohol at home - Roy, because he knew very well what that could do to him, and Riza, out of solidarity and lack of interest.

Eventually, the orchestra started playing a waltz, one of the only dances Riza knew, and Roy sneaked in beside her. He reached out his hand with his charming expression.

"Madam, may I have this dance?" Seeing his expression, he went back to normal. "Just one, I promise. Trust me. I was right about this, wasn’t I?”

Riza sighed and took his hand. "You’re insufferable when you’re right. “

"Good thing it doesn’t happen too often, then.”

They walked to the dance area, which was still packed. Fortunately, it was too late in the evening for the audience to notice that the Führer and his wife had finally joined the ballet. They took their positions, Roy's hand above her hip and Riza’s hand on his shoulder, and began to waltz to the rhythm of the music.

Like makeup and fashion, dance was one of those things no one had bothered to teach Riza and she had never bothered to learn. Grumman did try to teach her the basics of minuet and polka, but like most of the things he had done for her, it was too little too late to really make a difference. She had become familiar with the waltz over the many military balls, but it had been a long time since she had danced it, and the lack of practice quickly made her miss some steps. Roy, on the other hand, obviously kept the pace with perfection, the movements as natural to him as breathing.

He didn’t comment on her clumsiness and instead started to give her advice, re-explaining some of the footwork she had forgotten and counting the beats out loud to help her follow the rhythm. It was a little-known side of his personality, but Roy could be very patient when he wanted to; Riza quickly gained confidence and was able to let herself be carried away by the music without making mistakes.

Of course, they couldn’t compete with the young couples who glided elegantly around them - Riza's movements were still a bit mechanical, and Roy's injuries prevented him from moving completely fluidly - but they were dancing, together, in full view of everyone, and that was just one more item on the long list of things they never thought they would be able to do. Although she was getting tired of proving Roy right, Riza had to admit that it _was_ nice to waltz like that in silence, both of them simultaneously focused and lost in thought; it was almost relaxing. She let her gaze wander behind Roy's shoulder, observing some details of the crowd.

She caught sight of a couple of guests sitting at the small tables not far from the buffet, and her heart suddenly dropped in her stomach.

Quickly, Roy’s gaze focused back on her face. He frowned.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a low voice.

Riza took a few deep breaths. She felt as if her throat was shut tight. "Behind you. Near the dessert table," she finally answered in the same tone.

As they continued to dance, Roy slowly made them turn around. As soon as she had her back toward the tables, Riza felt her muscles relax, and she realized her fingers had dug into Roy's shoulder.

She watched his eyes widen as he saw, sitting down with a plate of cake, Mrs. Bradley and her son Selim.

He was much older than when Riza had met him as the assistant to the Führer - he had to be 13 or 14 years old today, she quickly calculated - but the resemblance to the human form of Pride was still striking. From what she had managed to see, he had the same dark hair, and the same eyes, unusually black, devoid of any emotion.

No. She couldn’t have possibly seen that from so far away; her mind was playing tricks on her.

"Riza." Roy's voice brought her back to reality. He looked her in the eyes insistently, his expression tense but his tone calm. We can leave now, if you want. We are not on a mission; we have no obligation to stay. “

She considered the possibility for a moment but shook her head. "No. It's too late, anyway; I shouldn't have seen him at all. “

Roy nodded, a guilty expression on his face. Riza knew he understood what she meant. For some sensitive topics, all it took was one remark, one memory that comes back to her mind, so that her next night would be filled with nightmares that would wake her up in the middle of the night, trembling and covered in cold sweat. It was the same for Roy; they had learned to be careful and to avoid these subjects like the plague.

Riza was embarrassed by the visceral fear that the mere thought of Pride still inspired her. He had held her hostage for a time, sure, but he had never killed anyone close to her or fought her directly, unlike other homunculi. So why was it so often his face, the face of a now harmless child, that slipped into her night terrors? And why did she still felt this irrational anxiety when she or Roy turned on a light in the middle of the night, casting huge shadows on the walls of their room?

Riza had almost managed to completely avoid Selim since the Promised Day. It hadn't been very difficult; Mrs. Bradley was very protective of the boy - with good reason - and he had been too young to come to events like this before. Riza had simply had to find excuses not to accompany Roy on his courtesy visits to the Bradley mansion.

But clearly, the years had done nothing to ease her fear. Riza felt a deep frustration rising inside her. She was a soldier, a veteran who had survived through wars, coups and terrorist attacks; she couldn't continue to live in fear of an ordinary child, a child who no longer had anything to do with the homunculus that once inhabited his body. Riza was going to deal with this the way she faced most of her problems: head-on.

"Let's go talk to them," she said suddenly. They were still dancing, she realized, but it felt as if the music had stopped. " Now.” 

Roy stared at her, surprised. "Riza, you don't need to do this. You don't have anything to prove.”

"I know. But I need to see for myself that he's just a child. This has gone on long enough. “

Roy looked worried, but he slowly nodded his head. Riza knew he understood. "If you're sure this is what you want. “

She agreed, and they walked off the dance area toward the tables. Quickly, Mrs. Bradley saw them approaching and smiled at them. She had always been fond of Roy and especially Riza, after they had "saved" her on the Promised Day. Riza's stomach became more knotted; she barely felt Roy squeeze her right hand.

"Führer, Captain! I am glad to see you," Mrs Bradley said warmly as they arrived at her table. Despite her white hair and her cane, she seemed as quick-witted as before. "Oh, I’m sorry. I suppose I should say Mr. and Mrs. Mustang now? Congratulations, by the way. “

Riza heard Roy reply with something that made Mrs. Bradley laugh, but the words didn’t make their way to her mind. She felt as if her head was underwater; the noises of the ball and of the conversation seemed muffled and diffuse, as if she were far away from what was happening. She observed Selim, who was following the discussion without speaking. He did look a lot like Pride, with the same face and hair. But his eyes were different, although Riza couldn't put her finger on what had changed. They had the same shape; they were still black as a crow…

Roy's squeeze on her arm brought her attention back to the conversation.

"Ah, but I think the real question you should ask her is whether I'm easier to manage in retirement or as Führer! You know that giving up work overnight isn't so easy..."

Riza caught herself in time and participated briefly in the exchange, throwing a few generalities with a smile and letting Roy lead the conversation. Mrs. Bradley introduced them to Selim ("It's been so long since you've seen him! Selim, do you remember them? "), and he greeted them politely. They spoke for a few more moments, then Roy wished them a good evening and walked away, discreetly guiding Riza with his hand at the small of her back.

She followed his lead mechanically, while her sense was slowly coming back to her. It seemed to her that the meeting had lasted only a few seconds. Suddenly, she felt Roy's worried gaze on her.

"I'm fine. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," she managed to say, calmly. “It's all right, Roy. “

It was true; all things considered; the encounter went pretty well. She had had worse episodes than this one, triggered by much more mundane things, and so had Roy.

Nevertheless, his concerned expression didn’t change. "Let's just get some fresh air for a moment, okay? “

He led her to one of the smaller balconies, thankfully empty, without taking his eyes off her, as if she were a bomb about to explode.

"I swear I'm okay," she said in a slightly irritated tone, leaning against the handrail in what she hoped was a casual gesture. The stability of the metal helped her keep her balance. "And I think it worked. It was definitely Selim, not Pride, who we spoke to. “

She suddenly realized what made it so obvious. Physically, the boy looked exactly like the homunculus; after all, it was his body that had been used. But when Pride had been in human form, the little boy he claimed to be had often seemed strange to Riza, even before she knew his identity. He had always looked too perfect, too angelic, as if he were trying to replicate the ideal image of a human child, in the homunculus’ mind. But the Selim they had spoken to had acted like a real teenager; like any teenager forced by his mother to attend a ball, he was bored, and kept a polite facade because he had been taught to.

Riza quickly pressed her fingers on her eyelids and opened her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts.

"Well," she began, straightening herself up, "we should go back. The others must be wondering where we are, and..."

As she was talking, Roy took her hands, and Riza suddenly realized that they were shaking.

Surprised, she let her voice trailed off, leaving the sentence incomplete. She lifted her head, finally meeting Roy's gaze. Without a word, he opened his arms and brought her close to him, holding her tight.

For a few seconds, Riza wondered what he was doing. She and Roy never hugged in public, and rarely even in private - she wasn't the cuddler type. Then she felt him take deep, controlled breaths, and she understood. This is what helped her, when she was waking up from a nightmare in the middle of the night, with the images in her head still so vivid they seemed real. In those moments, Roy would wrap his arms around her, lie on his back, and she would put her head against his chest. In fact, any presence helped to reassure her - when she was living alone, Hayate had often fulfilled this role - but she had discovered that feeling someone’s respiration was even more effective. It allowed her to calm her own breathing, synchronizing it with the movements of Roy's chest as it rose and fell.

Strangely, this technique didn't work as well with Roy. When he was dragged out of his sleep, often with a scream, he needed some space to cool down without feeling trapped. In these cases, Riza would talk to him in a low voice, often taking his hand and massaging it until he relaxed. This was what helped him the most - except when he had been dreaming about the Promised Day, in which case he needed to hold someone in particular.

Riza finally wrapped her arms around Roy's back, leaning into his embrace. How comforting, yet how sad, that they knew so well how to help the other through this kind of thing, she thought not for the first time.

She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on her inhalations and exhalations, as she had done so often in the past. It was harder to do it standing up - Riza was a few inches too tall to actually rest her head on Roy's chest - but by pressing her face against his collarbone, she could feel his breath on her cheek. Gradually, her heartbeat slowed down.

Still, she didn't make any move to let go, and neither did he. The coolness of the summer night was a pleasant change from the stifling ballroom, and she could hear the melody of crickets coming from the garden below the balcony. Roy's familiar scent filled her nostrils, with a touch of the perfume that he only used for special occasions. Riza could have stayed like that for hours.

After a long time, she opened her eyes and gently pushed Roy away. She smiled at him.

"I'm feeling better, now. Thanks. “

"What are you talking about? I’m the one who needed to calm down. This child really gives out a creepy energy, I swear. “

Riza chuckled. "Of course. Well, this time, we should go back for real. The others must really be wondering where we are “

"Ah, don't worry about them," Roy said with a wave of his hand as they headed inside. "I'm sure that Havoc, with his twisted mind, is coming up with a whole lot of scenarios. “

"All the more reason to come back as fast as we can. “

They were soon greeted by their group of colleagues still in the hall and quickly jump back into the conversations. Even though they were amidst their close friends, and had nothing to prove, they remained side by side for the rest of the evening; and this time, it was Riza who first wrapped her arm around Roy's waist.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> As usual, comments are the life source of authors, consider leaving one if you've liked the fic.
> 
> I realized as I was editing this that my last 3 fics have featured vulnerable/sad Riza...I'll probably write some BAMF Riza next to even it out.


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